Page 7 of The Bennet Heir

Chapter Six

E lizabeth and Darcy stood by the refreshment table, engaged in quiet conversation as they sipped the glasses of punch Darcy had procured for them. Their easy companionship, the warmth in Darcy’s gaze and Elizabeth’s soft laughter created a bubble of intimacy, making them almost unaware of the rest of the room, as often happened of late when they were speaking together.

That bubble burst abruptly when a sudden jolt sent a cold, sticky sensation cascading down Elizabeth’s front. A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she recoiled, her free hand instinctively grasping Darcy’s arm for balance. Her once-pristine gown was now drenched in deep red liquid, the sweet scent of fruit and sugar clinging to the fabric.

The culprit, balancing two now-empty cups, stammered apologies. “Oh! Miss Bennet, I—I am terribly sorry! I did not see?—”

Elizabeth inhaled deeply, attempting to compose herself even as she lifted her skirts slightly and dabbed at them with the handkerchief she had quickly pulled from her reticule. Before she could formulate a response, Darcy’s expression darkened, his sharp gaze assessing both Elizabeth’s discomfort and the man before them.

“Bingley,” Darcy said coolly, his voice laced with frustration, “perhaps you ought to be more careful where you step, particularly in a crowded room while carrying glasses of punch.”

“Oh, please forgive me,” Bingley cried. “Darcy, I did not see you there. Did I injure you or Miss Bennet with my clumsiness?”

“I am well, sir, but Mr. Darcy, if you would fetch my brother, I think I will have to go home early to see what can be done about this dress,” Elizabeth replied, her own frustration evident, for this particular dress was new and one of her favourites. It was unlikely that the stain would be able to be removed since the base of the punch was red wine.

“Bingley, go find Mr. Bennet while I escort Miss Bennet to a retiring room so a maid can assist her,” Darcy said to his friend before turning towards the lady still holding his arm. “Perhaps you can do something about the stain now, before you depart for home, to prevent it from ruining your gown.”

Before either could go far, Charlotte appeared beside them. “Eliza, I saw what happened and have asked your brother to call for the carriage, and I will ask my mother to allow Mary and Kitty to spend the night. What might I do to assist you?”

“Mr. Darcy was going to escort me to the retiring room, Charlotte. Perhaps you could fetch my wrap for me instead, Mr. Darcy, and allow my sister to help me for now. We will only be a moment and will meet you at the front door with my brother.”

After Darcy nodded his agreement with the plan, the three began to leave the room to complete their tasks. Behind them, Bingley hesitated, shifting uneasily as if debating whether to intervene on behalf of his sister. His hand twitched at his side before he took a hesitant step forward.

“Darcy, it was merely an accident—” he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty, his usual easy confidence faltering in indecision.

Not slowing his pace, Darcy cast a brief glance over his shoulder, his jaw set. Whatever hesitation Bingley had hoped to find in his friend’s gaze was absent. Without a word, Darcy turned back, his stride unwavering as he ignored Bingley’s feeble attempt at apology and continued on his path.

Bingley faltered, his hand half-raised as if to reach out, but then it dropped to his side. A flicker of something crossed his face—not quite regret, but something more self-satisfied. He lingered for a moment, watching Darcy leave, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, as though confirming something to himself.

With a quiet exhale, he turned back to the refreshment table, picking up two fresh glasses. He had nearly forgotten his earlier task. Miss Jane was waiting, and the thought of her bright smile sent a pleasant warmth through him. His lips twitched in satisfaction. Whatever else had transpired tonight, he had done his part to assist his sister as she had demanded. He carried the beverages back, determined to focus on Jane’s company rather than his friend’s sudden departure or his sister’s ridiculous demands.

In the hall, Darcy approached the master of Longbourn who was speaking to the footman who had arranged for his carriage to be brought around. “Bennet, might I accompany you and your family home? I would like to speak to you and find I no longer wish to remain here.”

“Of course, Darcy, and I will arrange to have my carriage remain ready to take you back to Netherfield after you see us home.”

Inadvertently, Darcy flushed at this. “Forgive me, I did not think about the inconvenience to you and your staff when making my request. I will wait until my friend is ready to depart, and I will visit you on the morrow instead.”

“It is nothing, Darcy, truly. Please, join us. My wife and sister will not mind in the least, and it is early yet. If it will make you feel better, I can have you walk back here in an hour so you might ride home with your friend and his sisters,” Bennet said with an arch grin that was so like his sister’s that Darcy could not help but smile in response.

“Thank you, but I would rather not,” Darcy said with a rueful grin. “I appreciate your offer of a conveyance back to Netherfield when we are done and would enjoy the opportunity to further my acquaintance with your family.”

“You know, my uncle always said that you and Lizzy would get along well when you finally met,” Bennet teased as the ladies approached. “Was he correct? I know the two of you have shared several conversations at this point, but you have called on her several times now.”

Darcy’s sudden flush was all the answer Bennet needed, prompting a hearty laugh. Before Darcy could formulate a response, the ladies arrived, joining them as they moved towards the entrance. “I have arranged with Mother to have Mary and Kitty spend the night with Maria, and they will return home in the morning,” Charlotte informed them

Lacking the time or inclination to inform Bingley in person, Darcy instructed a servant to deliver a message regarding his departure and his plans to return to Netherfield later that evening. By doing so, he spared himself the necessity of witnessing Bingley’s reaction.

However, Jane noticed the moment the message was delivered, and though she could not hear the footman’s quiet words, she did see the way Bingley’s expression faltered—how his easy smile wavered, and the light in his eyes dimmed ever so slightly. It was several moments before he returned to his usual amiable behaviour, and Jane wondered about it.

Miss Bingley, observing the exchange from her location across the room, noticed the subtle change in her brother’s demeanor. She approached the pair, her brow furrowed as she searched the room for Mr. Darcy. “What has happened, Charles? Where did Mr. Darcy go? And those Bennets; did they leave as well? I saw that you spilled some punch on that chit, Eliza,” she hissed quietly, trying to ensure that his companion did not overhear.

Turning towards her, Bingley spoke just as softly. “He departed to escort the Bennets home and to ensure Miss Bennet is well after I spilled the punch. I apologise, Caroline, that my plan did not work as well as it ought to have done.”

She scowled at her brother, forgetting to keep her voice low. “You are a fool, Charles. I suppose I must take matters into my own hands. Mr. Darcy will be made to see reason, one way or another,” she declared darkly.

Mr. Bingley nearly shivered at the implied threat in her words. For a fleeting moment, he considered warning Darcy, but then hesitated. If Darcy left without proposing, his sister would be intolerable. She will be easier to live with if she gets what she wants, he reasoned.

As Miss Bingley stalked away, Jane watched the exchange with quiet interest. If Mr. Bingley were to offer for her, as her mother insisted he would, she would prefer his sister to be married and out of the way. She had also noticed how frequently Mr. Darcy sought Elizabeth’s company. Though her mother urged her to keep her distance from her younger sister, Elizabeth had always been kind. Helping Miss Bingley would mean harming Elizabeth, a thought that troubled Jane.

She had little time to dwell on it, however, for Mr. Bingley turned back to her, his full attention once again upon her. His admiration was evident in the way his gaze lingered, and he lavished her with compliments. Yet, despite his effusive praise, little of substance passed his lips. His words seemed more concerned with flattering her appearance than truly engaging with her as a person.

As his praise continued, a thought struck Jane, unsettling her. She wondered whether she could tolerate his superficiality for a lifetime. Would she be trapped in a relationship filled with insincere panegyrics but lacking any deeper connection? It was an unsettling thought, one that reminded her of the relationship between her mother and her second husband—her stepfather. There had been little of real substance between them, and while her mother claimed that great affection had led to the match, Jane was less certain that it was true. At times, Mr. Bennet, whom she had never been entirely comfortable with, had almost seemed to despise her mother.

For a moment, she wondered which of the two she would become—her mother, endlessly seeking validation through charm and affection, or her stepfather, barely tolerating the person she was bound to.

The idea of becoming someone who could only offer empty pleasantries seemed just as suffocating as the thought of being with a man who had little interest in anything deeper than her appearance. The comparison made her uneasy, and she shifted slightly, considering whether Mr. Bingley’s attentions, though flattering, could truly sustain a relationship—or if, like her mother’s, it would eventually fall apart.

Not wishing to dwell on the unpleasant topic any longer, Jane turned her full attention to her companion. She smiled and responded as expected, allowing herself to be carried along by the pleasant flow of conversation. Yet, beneath her composed exterior, unease remained. She knew her mother would continue to encourage her attachment to Mr. Bingley—after all, he was reportedly very wealthy, undeniably handsome, and unfailingly amiable. These were qualities her mother deemed more than sufficient for a good match. Yet Jane could not ignore the faint whisper of doubt in the back of her mind.

Still, tonight was not the time for these musings. She would think on the matter tomorrow.

Upon leaving Lucas Lodge, Bennet assisted his wife into the carriage before joining her, while Darcy helped Elizabeth into the carriage and followed behind. To his surprise, the only available seat was the backward-facing one next to her. He noted the wry grin on his new friend’s face and the slight flush of embarrassment on Elizabeth’s.

Recovering quickly from his surprise, Darcy found it easy to chat with the Bennet family on the short trip to Longbourn. Upon their arrival, the scenario was repeated; Bennet stepped down, assisted his wife, and then left Darcy to assist Elizabeth down from the carriage.

“I am not entirely certain of my brother’s intentions, but I apologise for his presumptuous behaviour,” Elizabeth said in an effort to address his impropriety of leaving them alone in the carriage.

“Not at all, Miss Bennet,” Darcy replied, a slight smile curving his lips. “In truth, his machinations are welcome since they allowed me to sit next to you on the ride home and to have this private moment with you.”

Darcy stepped down from the carriage and extended his hand to assist Elizabeth. As she descended, her foot slipped, and he instinctively caught her, his grip firm yet gentle as he steadied her against him.

For a breathless moment, neither moved. The silence felt charged as it wrapped around them, thick with an awareness neither dared to name. Elizabeth’s fingers curled against his where he still held her hand, while her other rested lightly on his shoulder. His free arm had instinctively gone around her waist to stop her fall, yet holding her steady, yet he made no move to release her when she was safely on her feet.

Darcy’s pulse pounded in his ears, the nearness of her intoxicating. Her warmth seeped through his gloves, soft and steady, a striking contrast to the storm of thoughts racing through his mind. He ought to let go, to step back—but the way her breath hitched, the way her eyes searched his, made it nearly impossible.

I have never felt this way before, he mused, his gaze locked with hers. What would it be like to have this—to have her—for a lifetime?

A throat cleared behind them, breaking the moment. Startled, they stepped apart, turning to find Bennet watching them with raised brows.

“I need to change and see what might be done about this dress,” Elizabeth said, her voice brisk as though to restore normalcy. As she rushed into the house, she turned to Charlotte, her tone lightening. “Do you think it can be cleaned? If not, perhaps the whole garment could be dyed a similar colour to the stain.”

The two women chatted as they entered the house and ascended the stairs, their conversation fading as they moved out of sight. Darcy lingered, his gaze following Elizabeth until she disappeared from view, a faint ache of longing settling in his chest.

Darcy absently followed his host into the study, glad that the route was now so familiar that he did not need to think about his steps as he moved towards the room. Once he was seated across from his host, a glass of brandy in his hand, he allowed himself to contemplate the events of the evening.

“I should return to Netherfield soon, but I wanted to ensure that Miss Elizabeth was well before I left,” Darcy said after several moments had slid by.

“It was only some spilled punch. If I know Lizzy as well as I think I do, she may regret losing a gown, but it will not trouble her too much,” Bennet replied.

Darcy nodded his agreement, and took another sip of his drink. “Something about that incident this evening felt wrong,” Darcy began, then paused again. “I cannot be certain, but Bingley almost seemed…pleased after the accident. There was a flash of something in his eyes—but I suppose I sound silly or overly suspicious. However, I have had a few conversations with Bingley over the last few days when it seemed as though he was pushing me towards a connection with his sister. As you know, I have told him, in no uncertain terms, that I would never marry her, but still…”

Again, Darcy trailed off as though he were thinking of a solution to a problem that was not yet firmly fixed in his mind.

Bennet’s voice interrupted his musings. “You are welcome at Longbourn, day or night, should it prove necessary,” he said seriously, taking a moment to consider the man before him. “I suppose a man in your position cannot be too careful. Additionally, you are not the only one who observed that Miss Bingley appeared angry on several occasions tonight.” He laughed at himself as he considered how that sounded. “But I would not have you think it was I who noticed, but rather my dear Charlotte who pointed it out to me. Both times you spoke with Miss Bingley this evening, she could not hide the anger on her face when your answer was different from what she expected.”

Darcy shook his head. “I wish to continue calling on your sister, but it will be difficult while I am staying at Netherfield. Unfortunately, that leaves me unsure how to act. It is simply too soon to request a courtship, but I will not be able to stay in the area much longer.”

“As I said, you are welcome to come to us here at Longbourn before you go to London. You previously mentioned the possibility of Lizzy going to London so you might continue calling on her there, but I am uncertain of that course. However, we will deal with that possibility when and if it arises,” Bennet said.

Before much more could be said, Charlotte and Elizabeth arrived at the doorway to the study.

“Miss Elizabeth, if it is not too late, would you like to play a round of chess?” Darcy asked, his voice steady, even as he felt himself needing to restrain the emotions that were rising. He had to remind himself that they had not known each other long enough to commit to more.

“I would be delighted, sir,” she replied, her lips curving into a smile that sent a slow, unfamiliar heat through him.

Darcy turned fully to look at her, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. Clad in a simple morning dress, she was every inch the proper lady, yet the soft glow of candlelight illuminated the delicate curve of her cheek, the slight flush to her skin, and the brightness in her eyes. She had never looked lovelier—or more tempting. It was that second thought that sent a rush of heat through him, an ache low in his chest, and he found himself wishing—just for a moment—that her brother and sister were not present, that he could step closer, trace the curve of her jaw with his fingers, and claim those parted lips in a kiss that would surely ruin him.

Shaking his head to banish these reckless imaginings, he drew in a slow breath and smiled down at her, reminding himself of his place. “Shall we?” he murmured, indicating that she should lead the way to the chessboard.

Behind them, Bennet and Charlotte took their seats in the far corner of the room, positioned where they could properly chaperone the couple while allowing them a semblance of privacy. Not that it mattered—Darcy was already at war with himself, struggling to suppress the desire that flared each time Elizabeth’s gaze met his own.

The couple spoke quietly as they played, but eventually, Darcy addressed the matter of greatest import to him.

“I have concerns about how much longer I can remain in the area. Should it become necessary for me to leave sooner than I wish, I hope your brother might permit you to visit the Gardiners in London. Although I mentioned the possibility to him, he did not seem to think it would be likely at present,” Darcy said after some time had passed and the game was nearly finished.

Elizabeth tilted her head, studying him with quiet curiosity as she watched him contemplate a move. “Do you always envision the worst-case scenario, Mr. Darcy?”

Darcy exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the question. “It seems I do,” he admitted, in a voice tinged with weariness. “Perhaps it is simply part of my nature, or it may stem from losing both my parents at a young age. One cannot endure loss without becoming acutely aware of the uncertainties of life.” He hesitated, then added, “You intrigue me, Miss Bennet, and I find myself wanting to know you better. However, I cannot help but worry that something—or someone, like Miss Bingley—might attempt to prevent that.” His tone hardened slightly. “I am unwilling to remain in the area if it means enduring an attempt by that woman to compromise me. Her behaviour tonight was… perhaps best described as proprietary. While I believe we handled her well enough, I do not trust her.”

Elizabeth’s amusement faded, replaced by quiet understanding. She rested her hand lightly on his forearm, a steady, reassuring touch. “I understand, sir,” she said softly.

“Miss Elizabeth, while Miss Bingley’s behaviour tonight was not unexpected, I am not convinced that Bingley spilling punch on you was entirely accidental. I would not wish anyone to harm you in an effort to get to me,” he murmured.

Elizabeth nodded, contemplating his words. In truth, she had not really known him long, only a few weeks, yet they had spent hours in each other’s company, speaking with an ease that was wholly unexpected. The thought of never seeing him again unsettled her in a way she had not anticipated. For years, she had heard him spoken of in the most glowing terms and had already admired him before they met. But now, that admiration had taken on an entirely new shape—something deeper, more personal.

Darcy leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Under no circumstances will I be forced to marry Miss Bingley. No matter what happens at Netherfield, I will see you again tomorrow. Despite our brief acquaintance, I am certain I do not want to give up your friendship.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught at the intensity in his eyes. “Then I look forward to your return, Mr. Darcy,” she murmured.

He drew in a sharp breath, closing his eyes briefly as though steadying himself. Never had he wanted to kiss a woman as much as he wanted to kiss this woman. It was absurd—impossible, even—that after so brief an acquaintance, he felt this strongly. Yet, the pull between them was undeniable.

With a frustrated sigh, he raked a hand through his hair before laying his king down in defeat. Pushing back his chair, he stood. In response, Elizabeth rose as well.

“Miss Elizabeth, I…” He hesitated, then shook his head. “No, it is too soon to say more. I will see you tomorrow.”

Then, suddenly, as if unable to stop himself, he reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. Elizabeth barely had time to process the warmth of his touch, the firm press of his fingers against hers, before he released her. He took his leave of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet before striding out the door without another word.

She let out a slow breath, staring after him, her heart pounding in a way it never had before.